


Damage control

by EnlacingLines



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: 5+1 Things, Angst with a Happy Ending, Established Relationship, Fluff and Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Idiots in Love, Injury, Light Angst, M/M, make out or die trying is the alternative title for this story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-25
Updated: 2020-01-25
Packaged: 2021-02-27 15:01:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22409128
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EnlacingLines/pseuds/EnlacingLines
Summary: This is the third time it’s happened, and Sylvain cannot believe their bad luck. It just seems they’re destined to be far too carried away they lose any sense of their surrounding when anything escalates. Which, on paper is a brilliant, perfect thing but in this cursed reality equates to one of them ending up in the infirmary.Or: The five times Dimitri and Sylvain make out and almost die in the process, and the one time they address the issue.
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Sylvain Jose Gautier
Comments: 18
Kudos: 197





	Damage control

**Author's Note:**

> Dimivain, finally. My ultimate favourite rarepair. 
> 
> I cannot take full credit for this fic. This came out of a late night (my time zone anyway) cursed conversation in the dark corner of the FE channel. So: Zen, Audrey, Sara and Alys this is dedicated to you. Thank you for letting me write this ridiculous plot, I hope I've done it justice. 
> 
> Audrey my lovely, amazing beta, an extra thank you to you. 
> 
> Hope you all enjoy!

When Sylvain was eight, Dimitri accidentally smashed Felix’s brand new sword to pieces, which he’d graciously, after much bargaining, allowed Dimitri to use. The result was utter pandemonium, and while the incident is recalled with a mixture of fond chuckling by everyone but Felix, who Sylvain thinks will cling onto the memory and grudge until his dying day, it really should have been a warning sign. 

It’s just that Sylvain never imagined he’d be dating the Heir Apparent who can crumble actual weapons to pieces when he accidentally activates his Crest, or on occasion, just forgets how powerful his hits are. 

In hindsight, he should have realised everything sooner. 

**1.**

Sylvain isn’t precisely sure how they managed to get to this point. There was definitely a lot of flirting on his end, which may have begun without thought, but ended terrifyingly genuine and some staring on Dimitri's part which made Sylvain’s palms sweat and his cheeks heat at every sense of the gaze turned on him. 

An endearingly awkward confession followed, with a kiss so hesitant Sylvain can barely believe he was part of it, and now it’s been just over six months where he is officially courting literal royalty. It’s overwhelming if he dwells too much, so he tries to content his mind with just basking in the days and weeks of time he has with Dimitri. 

That time is scarce. They have classes which are not always together, schedules which don’t match, assigned duties, different friends and other responsibilities outside of school. Well, Sylvain actually ignores 90% of the missives from his father unless they are literally life or death. Dimitri does have external tasks though, so it’s a balancing act of how they spend their hours. 

Dimitri works late. Sylvain understands, he prefers studying by candlelight than the rise of the sun, but he does know when to cease, while Dimitri does not. So, when it’s well past 1am and there’s no sign of him returning (their rooms being next to one another has several advantages), Sylvain goes on a search. It doesn’t take him long, for Dimitri is a creature of habit, and Sylvain finds him hunched over a book in the library, candle burned down to a stub. 

He clears his throat and Dimitri jerks up, eyes blinking rapidly. It’s rather cute, Sylvain can’t help but think. 

“Oh, Sylvain,” Dimitri says, having to clear his throat halfway through. His voice softens on the syllables of Sylvain’s name, dipping low in tone accompanied by the smallest of smiles that always appears just for him. It makes Sylvain’s breath catch, these tiny moments where he receives real affection in unexpected places. Things he’d never actually thought could be directed at him. 

“Hey. Do you know what time it is?” he says, voice quiet even though the library is echoing, steps loud as he paces forward to a nearby chair, leaning over it to simply just be within Dimitri’s space. 

Dimitri blinks once more, mind clearly exhausted even if it hasn’t come to full realisation yet. His gaze flickers to the clock opposite and he starts. 

“Ah. I had not realised. We have to be awake in six hours, that’s not good,” he mutters to himself, and Sylvain grimaces, thinking there’s no way he’ll be joining pre-breakfast training. 

“Bedtime then, come on,” Sylvain says, reaching out a hand. 

Dimitri blushes deeply and turns away with a cough and it takes a second for Sylvain to clock exactly what he’d said there. He smirks, and doesn’t remove his hand, raising his eyebrows when Dimitri manages to catch his eyes once more, the flare in his cheeks darkening. 

After all, that is still somewhat unexplored territory. And that’s more than fine with Sylvain, their pace is their own, but he does delight somewhat in how flustered Dimitri gets at any insinuation, even if all Slyvain wants is for Dimitri to get some sleep. 

He takes the offered hand though, his skin warmer, having been safely inside while Sylvain’s been wandering in the cool night air. He closes his fingers around Dimitri's, giving him a gentle tug into standing as he turns their intertwined palms as to lace their fingers together. Dimitri stumbles a little to his feet and then proceeds to try and tidy with only one hand.

It is pretty much futile and Sylvain should let go but he doesn’t want to. And Dimitri doesn’t seem to want to either because he is trying to balance a stack of books and papers impossibly in one hand. So eventually he sighs, looks at Sylvain and regrettably pulls his hand free. 

Sylvain is quite glad no one is here to see that display because it probably looked ridiculous and he has a reputation to uphold of being smooth and gallant, not strangely clingy and silly, even if his boyfriend is just as far gone. 

Dimitri, now reluctantly free, carefully puts all of the items away and returns to Sylvain’s side. Sylvain winks then turns towards the door, only to yelp when he’s dragged backwards slightly by Dimitri pulling a little too harshly on his hand. 

“Sorry!” Dimitri says and releases his pressure on Sylvain’s fingers, almost drawing his hand away. But Sylvain grips back swiftly, even if his fingers ache. 

“It’s fine, don’t worry. Come on,” he says, tugging and leading away, the tension in Dimitri's shoulders lessening slightly as they move back in step. 

Sylvain bumps his shoulder as they walk, and Dimitri smiles. 

“What were you working on?” he says, quiet as the monastery is deeply dark and silent in this hour of the night. 

“Ah, tactical plan for the professor. It’s actually fairly simple, but-” 

Sylvain does listen, but his brain is too tired to comprehend the nuances, and he’s more invested in the sound of Dimitri’s voice, the spark in his eyes as he discusses ideas. He rubs his thumb along Dimitri’s hand as they walk the small distance, pausing when they get to Sylvain’s room. 

“Oh, I seemed to have taken up all our time with that explanation,” Dimitri mourns, but Sylvain shakes his head. 

“Nah, it’s nice hearing you talk,” he says, truth he’d never previously disclosed in other relationships, but it’s easier with time and with him to say exactly how he feels. 

There’s a beat and then Dimitri is kissing him. 

They’re good at this. They’ve had practice now, time and feedback, for both of them in their differing ways are incredibly studious. So Sylvain knows how to add a graze of his teeth which makes Dimitri gasp and pull him closer, while Dimitri’s lips move in that way which has Sylvain melting under his touch, strong hands steadying him. 

They part with twinned struggles for air, and Sylvain scrambles for his doorhandle as Dimitri crowds closer. 

“We should be sleeping,” Dimitri whispers against Sylvain’s neck, then follows up with a nip of his teeth as Sylvain almost falls through the door. 

“We can sleep after,” he pants, and would normally be mortified by how affected he is from just heavy, drawn out kisses but he doesn’t care. Especially when Dimitri, pristine Prince and one to follow rules to the end, kisses him deep and carefully, the dip of his tongue an effective distraction as he hoists Sylvain up by the waist, Sylvain moaning into his mouth at the thrill of being manhandled like that.

It last merely a second though before there’s dull sound of collision, then a delayed spike of agony sears through Sylvain’s head. His vision blanks and he thinks he pulls away from the kiss for he definitely shouts a mixture of profanity and nothingness at the top of his voice. There’s a curse and more smashing but Sylvain can barely notice anything with the drumbeat of pain booming in his skull. 

It slowly abates, but he does not open his eyes, the effort feels too great. His senses return to a feel of soft hands cupping his jaw, trying gently to raise his head from where he’s obviously holding it down. 

“Sylvain, can you look at me? I am so, so sorry, please? Open your eyes?” 

_Dimitri_ , his mind helpfully recalls, and with what seems like extreme effort, he pries open his eyes. Instantly there is a whirl of colour and he tips, only to be steadied briefly before falling forward and crashing into solid warmth. 

“Oh goddess, that’s not good,” Dimitri says, and Sylvain decides he does not like the sound of that so tries the eye opening thing again. 

This time the colours only swirl nauseatingly for a minute, then quickly solidify into his very worried looking boyfriend, who has one hand cupped on his cheek, the other slung around his waist. Despite the fear, he manages a smile when Sylvain’s eyes meet his. 

“There you are. Let me see,” he says, and Sylvain winces, a hiss drawing out as Dimitri softly pushes his hair up and out of his face. 

“You’re not bleeding thank the goddess, but you nearly passed o-”

Both of them jump as suddenly the door is thrown open and a sword enters the room, followed by Felix, hair down and wild. He freezes though when he sees them, and they too both stay still staring. 

There’s a beat where no one moves. Then Felix speaks. 

“Why did it just sound like you were both being murdered by bandits?” Felix says, still brandishing the sword, but now directly at Dimitri. 

“Oh, he’s just worried,” Sylvain says, then decides to give into the headache and cuddle into Dimitri’s shoulder, while there’s an exclamation from Felix and Dimitri hugs him closer. 

“Apologies for waking you, Felix. I may have...hit Sylvain’s head on the ceiling.” 

Felix’s mouth drops open, which Sylvain can’t blame him for seeing as he is actually quite stricken by the statement. It’s quite an achievement. He lifts his head, narrowing his eyes and sees that there’s a beam near the door which probably is responsible for his state. 

“This is explain why my head hurts so much,” Sylvain comments and Dimitri makes a pained noise from above him. 

“Why would you do that?” Felix asks and Sylvain can’t help but grin, remember exactly what they were doing before the unfortunate accident. 

Felix makes a face. “Disgusting,” he says intensely and Sylvain laughs, tries to extract himself from Dimitri’s side then promptly almost falls on his face. 

Both Felix and Dimitri catch him, and he thinks he should probably remark on their good reaction times but he’s too dizzy to really focus properly. 

“He needs healing, let’s go,” Felix says, but Sylvain is suddenly, desperately alert. 

“Do not wake Manuela, I want to live,” Sylvain says. 

“Well you might die of a head injury if we don’t,” Felix says which is precisely the wrong thing to say for Dimitri suddenly decides they are going no matter what, even if Sylvain insists he’s mostly fine. 

The only bonus is Dimitri insists on carrying him, which means he does get to cuddle up with his boyfriend, even if said boyfriend is almost running so it’s not that comfortable and Felix is buzzing in his ear like an annoying fly, so much so that he swats him in the face, and almost gets punched in return.

Luckily, a few students have come down with a nasty flu, so Manula is already awake. She takes one look at Sylvain and has him instantly drinking something bright green and tasting of what he assumes muddy rain water would be like, and has a healing spell on him within a few minutes. 

“I’m not going to ask how it happened, but your pupils were already blown, so that could have been nasty. Get some sleep, I’ll tell professor Byleth you need to be excused from classes tomorrow morning. Report to her in the afternoon to discuss how you’re feeling,” Manuela says, then shoos all three of them off. 

Felix abandons them without a word. Dimitri and Sylvain walk back slowly to their rooms, not speaking or touching. Sylvain glances to the side, noticing the furrow on Dimitri’s brow. 

“Hey, don’t look like that, I’m fine,” he says, going back to nudging Dimitri with his shoulder. 

However, Dimitri sighs. “I should not have done that. It was reckless, and you heard Professor Manuela, you were seriously hurt, I-” 

Sylvain stops walking before the tirade can continue, reaching out and capturing Dimitri’s attention by holding onto his shoulder. He waits until Dimitri meets his eyes before speaking slowly. 

“I’m fine. This is what magic is for, prevents things from getting too bad. I barely have a headache now. And I don’t care because firstly it was an accident and secondly, it was insanely hot. Do you know how many people can lift me like that? Well, I can guess but it’s never happened before so you should do it again in a place where the ceiling isn’t so low,” Sylvain says, winking and moving his hand upwards from Dimitri’s shoulder to cup his cheek. 

During Sylvain’s conversation his boyfriend has moved from being disapproving and doubtful to perfectly flustered so he counts that as a victory. It also means that when he moves in for a kiss, Dimitri returns it with no hesitation, albeit with a softness that Sylvain doesn’t think is quite warranted. He really isn’t that fragile. 

They part and Sylvain jumps back in for one final press of lips before grabbing Dimitri’s hand. 

“Come on, you really do need to sleep. And I need hugs, so that’s our next plan.” 

Dimitri obliges willingly, and is only mildly grumpy when he struggles to get up a mere few hours later while Sylvain naps indulgently. 

  
  


**2.**

“Why do thieves always hide in woods? I feel like I’m constantly traipsing through the same patch of grass,” Sylvain states as they march back towards the convoy, the thieves having been routed out. 

Dedue sighs heavily as if Sylvain’s presence is a great weight on his shoulders. Sylvain can’t work out how Dedue feels about he and Dimitri’s relationship, but he doesn’t think he’s that positive, mostly grudgingly accepting. 

“It’s an entirely different location than last time, but I...can see the similarities,” Ingrid says with a nod, as they make their way up the hill. 

The Professor greets them with somber acknowledgement. 

“Good work today. I need a couple of you to scout out the area to the West. We believe they were storing their valuables in two areas, so I’ve sent Felix and Ashe to the other,” she says, eyeing them all. 

“I would be happy to do that,” Dimitri says with a bow, always the first in line to take up a task from the Professor. 

And if Dimitri’s going…

“I’ll go, Professor!” Sylvain says, stepping forward just as Dedue opens his mouth to speak. 

“Is that a good idea?” Ingrid questions and he turns to glare at her. Traitor. Sylvain has mostly pure intentions, seeing as they are at the end of a mission. It’s never a good moment when these incidents occur, so he wants to make sure Dimitri is okay. And if he gets an extra ten minutes with him when he knows they’ll be stuck in debriefs and lessons for the rest of the day, then that’s a bonus. 

And if he can sneak in a kiss or two while no one is looking, then that’s just the icing on the cake. 

But it’s one of those moments where Sylvain actually does have a reason, and for a second, he lets the mask fall.

“Our weapons are the most intact and Dedue is injured,” he states, looking to Ingrid’s broken lance, which she grimaces at. 

The Professor snaps a look at Dedue, as does Dimitri. Ah, so Sylvain had been the only one to notice him favouring his left leg. Dedue gives Sylvain that blank stare, which once again he cannot fully identify, but swiftly turns to their Professor.

“I am fine, truly,” he says, but she shakes her head. 

“If you’re injured, we have potions in the convoy, and it’s best you rest. Mercedes knows where they are kept. Ingrid, I’d like you to collect up the weapons dropped near that thicket, Annette will come and help you,” she says, pointing to an area in sight of the convoy. 

She then turns her sharp gaze on Sylvain and he cannot help but straighten up a little under her scrutiny. 

“You both have fifteen minutes, or I’m sending Ingrid and Dedue to help you. You know the signal if you run into trouble, but I am giving you more than enough time,” she says, with a final stare before sending them off with a wave of her hand. 

Dimitri bows low, and Sylvain is almost inclined to do the same, she has that kind of effect. But he resists and nods instead before turning and making his way towards what appears to be a type of shack. 

He glances towards Dimitri, who is glaring ahead with a single minded focus. Neither of them are particularly stealthy in their armor, Dimitri in particular is extremely heavy footed, so if there are any remaining thieves, they have plenty of warning. 

Sylvain can’t help but smile to himself, thinking of all the times they try to be stealthy, but are simply incapable. Between Dimitri’s heavy footsteps and ridiculous strength to Sylvain’s natural echoing tone and distinctive voice means they are never any good at being secretive. Not that Sylvain even wants to be; to this day he’s overjoyed at their relationship, and would proclaim every single thing that makes his day brighter to anyone who would listen. Except Dimitiri would probably die of embarrassment, only Annette would actually listen, and either Ingrid, Felix or possibly Dedue would render him unconscious for the annoyance. 

“Sylvain, please focus,” Dimitri says without warning. 

Sylvain does a double take. “I am!” he insists. 

Dimitri gives him a sideways glance. “That smile says otherwise,” he says, and Sylvain almost trips over a stray rock as they close in on the shack. 

“My smile means I’m not focusing?” he questions. 

“You have a series of expression depending on what you’re thinking, and that smile doesn't mean you are focused on the task at hand. We’re almost there, let’s go,” he says, and Sylvain numbly nods while his mind spirals into a delighted confusion of ‘he knows the different expressions I make’. 

Which is a feat in itself. For he’s cultivated a specific set of masks that Dimitri has been slowly breaking down the closer they get, and to be able to see the trueness of his feelings in his face is a testament to how close they are. 

It leaves Sylvain dazed as they searched through the hideout, which is entirely deserted of people, although they do manage to find a few items of jewellery which they can now return, one sword, and a bag containing correspondence which hopefully will lead to stopping similar attacks. They collect the items between them, task complete in barely a few minutes. 

Which means Sylvain can go back to cycling over Dimitri’s comment on his smile. 

“So, what exactly did my smile mean?” Sylvain asks as they begin their return. 

He thinks Dimitri’s glance is meant to be withering but it’s ruined by the slight smile and crinkling to his eyes. 

“Again, this is not an appropriate time,” Dimitri says, but he does slow his steps and Sylvain adds a swagger to his. 

“Well, how else are we going to pass the time until we reach the convoy? Come on, tell me,” he says, nudging him as they walk. 

He gets a nudge back which gives him far too much of a rush from what it is, although he does only just stop himself from overbalancing. 

“Fine, I don’t know exactly what you were thinking, but you usually smile like that when it’s something positive. I know when you look upset and you’re trying to hide it, when you’re excited and when you’re focused on a task,” he recounts, as if it’s nothing and not an astounding feat, a testimony to how far they have come.

“Want to know?” he says, their steps now so much slower than before. 

“If it is something that makes you happy, I would like to know,” Dimitri replies. 

And Sylvain has to inhale because this level of honesty is both a thrill and curse, but the former wins out. 

“You.” 

It’s easy, one word but it transforms the atmosphere in less than a second. For Dimitri is caught off guard, blue eyes wide and mouth slightly open and-

They’re kissing, instantly, Sylvain unable to tell who began but he’s most certainly continuing it. More than that, he’s going to take charge of it, as they do not have enough time to get as carried away as he’d like to. But Dimitri seems to need to respond to his statement with ferocity, so it’s a delicious mess of push pull until Sylvain exercises a dirty trick in which he thumbs the back of Dimitri's neck in a way that’s guaranteed to make him melt. 

And he does, folding so Sylvain can guide him downwards, thinking they have at least five minutes where he can crawl into Dimitri’s lap and kiss him senseless, perhaps add some evidence of their triste, as they tumble down in muffled laughs to the grass, Sylvain's mouth latched to where he can reach on his neck, cursing internally their armor. 

As they hit the ground, Dimitri makes a huffing sound and Sylvain presses his smile into his mouth as they still connect by a kiss, fully intending to crawl closer when Dimitri suddenly parts with a shout, leaving Sylvain blinking and disoriented. 

He’s staring down at his arm, and Sylvain follows his movement, confused until he realises, Dimitri has managed to stick his hand in ant hill, and they’re now crawling all across his hand.

“Err…” Sylvain says intelligently, as they both scramble to their feet and out of the way, Dimitri slowly being covered in the tiny creatures. They back away, grabbing their gear and moving fast towards the convoy, just as Dimitri starts wincing. 

“I think they bite,” he states, and Sylvain groans before grabbing the hand without ants, and running back to the others. 

They fumble out an explanation as Annette banishes the bugs and winces at the marks on Dimitri’s neck where they managed to find an opening. Sylvain can see the bruises of his own making intertwined, and thinks they’ve gotten away with it, until Felix yanks his arm when Garreg Mach is in sight. 

“Next time, check for ants before you start devouring one another. Do you have to be so uncontrollable you both end up injured every time?” he hisses. 

Sylvain winces, and rubs at his arm. 

“Duly noted, I’ll be on the lookout for ants,” he says. 

Felix looks unimpressed and honestly, Sylvain can’t blame him. 

**3.**

Stable duty is a chore Sylvain doesn’t mind, but it’s made better by the fact he gets to do it with Dimitri; considering they’re both adept at working with horses it’s completed faster, which means there’s more time for other, more productive endeavors. 

Such as making out. 

“This isn’t really what we should be doing with the extra time. We need to stop kissing when we finish tasks,” Dimitri whispers as he half bites half kisses up Sylvain’s neck to his jaw, obviously not actually concerned enough to stop. 

It takes Sylvain a moment to actually comprehend the protest, then drags Dimitri up by his hair to kiss him fully, a messy excuse that has Dimitri pushing him backwards, Sylvain stumbling and laughing into his mouth as he tries to grab onto his shoulders, fingers catching on the buckles and cape fastenings. 

It’s fun. Light, but with intensity as Dimitri’s already managed to undo three of Sylvain’s shirt buttons in order to get to his collarbones (or possibly rip them off, Sylvain’s unclear of the details, but he can buy another shirt). Sylvain stumbles a little as Dimitri crowds him backwards, laughing into his mouth which Dimitri returns, then goes back to his neck with more bite this time, Sylvain’s hitch in his breath vocalising into a moan as the pressure increases and Dimitri’s hand snakes up the back of his shirt. 

The noise spurs Dimitri on, which in turn makes Sylvain grasp him tighter, grope for his mouth and grab again at his hair, the whole situation becoming an endless feedback cycle of heat between them, gaining speed as Sylvain gasps when Dimitri’s thumb presses down his spine, one of the strange places they’ve discovered sends sparks for no reason. 

In the daze of the moment Sylvain’s legs almost give out, and instead of clinging onto Dimitri as he is aiming to, his hands skim but capture nothing, he does some sort of ridiculous footwork and manages to trip over Dimitri’s unnecessarily huge boots, and immediately topples backwards. 

Dimitri must also be in some kiss drunk haze for he moves far too slowly to actually catch Sylvain, meaning he immediately slams back against the wall, legs falling from under him so he slips to the floor. 

This would normally be a relief, except this particular wall has the pitchforks lines up against it and Sylvain yells as his back manages to scrape across one before he dives to the side and lands on the floor. He groans as his back lights up with lines of pain, the intensity of which increases dramatically with every second. 

He sits up though and Dimitri immediately slams onto his knees in front of him. 

“Why did you back me into a pitch fork?” Sylvain says in what is not a whine, but also isn’t quite sharp enough to be a reprimand. 

“I-I wasn’t paying attention,” he says with a sense of panic in his voice that’s clearly mounting, so Sylvain switches on the charm instantly. 

“Hey, it’s okay. I wasn’t exactly paying attention either,” he says, laughing even though he feels his shirt starting to stick to his throbbing back painfully. 

Definitely bleeding then. Great. 

This is the third time it’s happened, and Sylvain cannot believe their bad luck. It just seems they’re destined to be far too carried away they lose any sense of their surrounding when anything escalates. Which, on paper is a brilliant, perfect thing but in this cursed reality equates to one of them ending up in the infirmary. 

But Sylvain is a knight. He’s grinned and bared many an injury so slips forward and kisses Dimitri, soft and slow, pulling his lip between his teeth as they part. 

“I think we should probably stop doing this in the stables though,” he says, voice low and managing a wink, while Dimitri’s eyes stay glazed and he nods without actually comprehending. 

In some strange maneuvering, Sylvain manages to retrieve and put on his jacket without Dimitri seeing his back. He has to fight the urge to yell though when he shrugs it on, and grits his teeth on the way back to his room, highly relieved when Dedue calls over for Dimitri’s aid on the way. They part with Sylvain pressing a kiss to Dimitri’s cheek, and he practically runs to his rooms, peeling off his clothes with relief. 

He inhales once, then turns to the mirror slowly. He winces at what he finds; his back is mess, three long, bleeding gashes marking where he’d managed to hit the pitchfork on his way to the floor. He twists his head as far as he can reach, trying to look at it objectively; it‘s not awful, and he thinks once he cleans it up and stops the bleeding it will seem more manageable. He can’t face going to Manuela again, let alone if anyone else hears about their escapades. So he vows to keep this to himself, and clean up. 

So he does just that, proving himself correct although the task takes a while. Sleeping also ends up being difficult, waking up the few times he rolls onto his back with searing reminder of their combined clumsiness. The wounds have sealed though, and he blearily makes his way to the baths the next morning, looking forward to banishing some of his aches in warm water. 

He’s sadly adept at washing with a wound, so makes it through the stinging and burning sensations. It’s quiet this early, but not early enough obviously, as while Sylvain is surreptitiously trying to patch up the wounds which have reopened slightly in the steam, only for Felix’s reflection to appear in the mirror. 

They both stare for a while. Then Felix’s eyes narrow and he stalks up to him. 

“What happened? You look like a lion tried to shred you,” he states. 

Sylvain really doesn’t want another lecture, nor does he want Dimitri to worry if he hears about this from Felix, so he jumps to the best way to make him let it go. 

“Close. More like a boar,” he says with a smirk. 

Felix’s face moves through several emotions that Sylvain can’t quite catch until his eyes narrow, and he steps forward. 

“You’re lying, those are not fingernail marks,” he states. 

“How would even know?” Sylvain replies without thinking and Felix’s jaw snaps shut and yes, Sylvain is going to die, right here in the bathhouse. 

“A child could tell, what actually happened?” he says through clenched teeth, a slight colour hinting at his cheeks. 

Ah Felix. Always so easy to fluster, but not easy to lie to. So he sighs and looks once more at the marks before turning back to him. 

“I fell on a pitch fork.” 

Felix looks at him in bemused horror. “How?” 

Sylvain grins that special grin which is only apparently reserved for Dimitri. “That’s where Dimitri actually does come in.” 

Felix closes his eyes as if he’s praying. “Again? Really?” he says sounding tired. 

Sylvain tries for a laugh but even to him it sounds fake, the fragments of concern he’s felt bubbling to the surface. It is becoming a weird pattern that they seem to cause each other pain so often. Felix though knows him well enough to see some of that, or at least something in the laugh for he sighs heavily, as if he’s just been given the most heinous task. 

“You obviously can’t dress it properly, so I’ll do it.” 

Sylvain gives him a grateful smile, the best he had as Felix half marches them back to his room, then proceeds to dress the wounds with slightly too much force, enough to ensure Sylvain knows the full displeasure he has at the entire situation. 

Once done, he hugs Felix tightly, who makes a strange strangled noise, and extracts himself like a wiggling cat, face red and eyes darting in a way that confuses Sylvain. But he shrugs and pulls on a shirt. 

“Thanks, Felix. Really, I owe you,” he says. 

Felix looks back at him. “Just be careful. Both of you. I don’t know why you’re so accident prone around each other but just stop it. I keep having to clear up both your messes. Don’t kill each other,” he says, almost a threat. 

Sylvain smile, tired. “We’re not trying to. But thanks, Felix. For always being there for us.” 

Felix swallows, nods and leaves rapidly. Thanks to his efforts, Sylvain heals fairly quickly. Enough that three days later he goes back to sleeping with his shirt off, Dimitri’s hands lulling him down as they trace unknowingly where the marks had been. 

**4.**

The tavern is busy, and Sylvain has to weave his way carefully back to the table clutching drinks, pushing tankard to Dedue and Ingrid. Ingrid salutes him before drinking heartily, leaning over in her chair a little closer to Dorothea than she was before. Sylvain grins to himself, wondering if Ingrid even knows she’s doing it. 

Dedue looks puzzled at the arrival of the drink. 

“Thank you,” he says, taking a careful before settling back into his conversation with Ashe. 

Sylvain takes a seat and immediately Dimitri’s arm is around him, their chairs basically melding into one. 

“That was kind. But you don’t need to worry so much,” Dimitri whispers, leaving a feathlight kiss in his head as he departs. 

Sylvain feels his blush rise and tries to hide it within a cough. He is worried, for Dedue and Dimitri are a crucial pair in retainer and king, and Sylvain is convinced Dedue doesn’t think highly of their relationship. So he’s trying to be nice, to help smooth things over and hopefully gain some ground. He’s in this for the long term and cannot stand the thought of there being tension. 

A server jostles Sylvain’s arm as they reach for empty glasses, and Dimitri’s eyes flick forward to the man, who collects their empties without a word. Sylvain shrugs, even as Dimitri continues to glare. 

“I cannot abide rudeness,” he states and Sylvain kisses his cheek once, a quick display of affection while Dimitri places a hand on Sylvain’s knee. 

It’s nice, the warmth of the room, the warmth of his boyfriend and the general sounds of a world outside of their studies and responsibilities. He watches Dorothea say something which causes Ingrid to go red, Annette and Mercie order nearly every variety of cake while Felix looks on in confusion, while Ashe smiles softly at something Dedue says. 

He likes this comfort, this ease. He could get used to it. 

He reaches out for his glass and realises he must have had his drink taken for the nearest is a wine, which he pushes closer to Dimitri. As he does he stands, Dimitri giving him a frown until Sylvain jerks his head towards the bathrooms, finding it cute his boyfriend questioned his removal so readily. 

As he leaves the facilities, he’s startled by a grab to the wrist. Really, he shouldn’t be so caught off guard but he spins to see the pale and worried face of a girl staring back at him. A sinking sensation follows; he knows her. They dated over a year ago, she’d been...unhappy with the result, and he’s bracing himself for a lightning bolt to the face when she speaks. 

“The wine, get the wine away from your companion! My brother and his friends put herbs in it. I’m so sorry I only just found out. It will make him sick, nothing more but best to stop it now,” she says, words blurring in her haste. 

“Wait...they poisoned his highness?” he asks, and her eyes widen. 

“Curses, oh goddess. It was...meant for you, I’m sorry, I honestly didn’t know and I will repay them, but-” 

He doesn’t stop to hear the rest of it, and races back to the table, fingers clenching as he spots Dimitri, glass being removed from his lips. He grabs it as soon as he reaches him, Dimitri shocked enough to let go. 

It’s half drunk. Dammit. 

And it’s all his fault. He grits his teeth and pulls at Dimitri’s arm, who is still looking up in confusion. 

“We need to go,” he says, softly, bending down as he still clings to his arm. 

He doesn’t want to alert any of the others, for causing a fuss in the tavern will make everything worse for the proprietor when it’s the actions of one individual, and really at the base of it, his own actions. 

Dimitri though must see the seriousness in his face for he agrees without question. They say their hasty goodbyes, Dorothea giving them a high whistle as they leave which would normally make him smile, but not in this moment. 

Dimitri doesn’t say anything to him as they leave, and as soon as they’re out of the door, the girl is back. 

“It’s just nightlock herbs, I’ve checked. Please, your highness, I beg forgiveness for my brother,” she says, bowing deeply. 

At his confused expression, Sylvain steps in, stomach churning. “Her brother put some in the wine you drank. It was meant for me,” he says, wanting more than anything to be out of this place. 

Dimitri’s anger is instant. “Your brother tried to poison him? Where is he, how da-”

But Sylvain grips him tightly. “Did you not hear the part where you’re poisoned instead? It was an accident, let’s go now before it hits,” he says, really not wanting to get into some sort of argument over who deserves a poisoning when Dimitri is moments from being ill. 

The girl stands, looking so apologetic, and Dimitri caves. Sylvain grips his hand as they walk back, pace as close to a run as he can get. 

“I’m sorry, this is all my fault,” he says, words out quickly as Garreg Mach comes into view. 

“And why on earth is that?” Dimitri says, running a thumb along the back of his hand, a soothing that Sylvain does not deserve. 

“I dated the girl. I didn’t end things well,” he says as the guards let them in, only vaguely glancing at their intertwined hands. 

Dimitri pulls them to a stop. He leans forward and places his forehead against Sylvain’s. 

“That does not excuse someone trying to poison you. Or mean you are responsible for my current predicament. I’m...honestly glad it’s me who is sick rather than you,” he says. 

Sylvain wants to cry, a strike of emotions so raw he doesn’t know how to cover it. So he steps forward and kisses Dimitri, a slow but powerful feeling drifting through which he hopes he can convey in the action. Dimitri pulls back first, steadying himself on Sylvain. 

“I think I am going to be sick,” he declares, and they just make it to Manuela in time for the vomiting to begin. 

Of course, with Dimitri being so violently ill, the situation doesn’t stay quiet. Sylvain, despite Manuela’s protests, stays with him all night and remains awake when Dimitri finally passes out with the first signs of daylight. He grips his hand in feverish sleep, doesn’t remove himself even as the monastery awakens. 

Felix arrives just before classes, Dedue in tow. Felix says nothing but leaves a cup of tea next to him, and Sylvain manages a shattered smile in reply. Felix and Dedue exchange a look. 

“I can stay, if you would like to rest?” Dedue offers, but Sylvian shakes his head. There’s no way he’s leaving now. 

Felix offers him a touch to the shoulder before leaving. “Sleep when he wakes up then,” he says, and Sylvain just nods, not really intending to do anything like that.

Except when Dimitri does awake, he demands Sylvian sleep, moving so he can lie across the covers next to him. Manuela isn’t impressed when she finds them later, but Sylvain can’t bring himself to care. 

  
  
  


**5.**

Dimitri has broken so many of Garreg Mach’s weapons that he's actually learning from the weapons master how to craft them, and Sylvain links his arm in his as they make their way to the rack. 

“Which one did you make?” he asks. 

Dimitri sighs heavily, and Sylvain squeezes his arm, stumbling slightly as Felix pushes past him to grab a training sword, giving them both a withering look at they ignore. 

“These two are ones I made last week,” Dimitri admits, and Sylvain lets go to grab one instantly. Dimitri gives him a questioning look. 

“I wanna use one you made,” Sylvain says, testing the weight of the training lance in his hands. 

This gets him a blush a which feels like pure victory, although the brief kiss on the cheek he receives as they leave has him almost tripping over his own feet. It’s a spark which gives him a boost to begin the activity with a fluffy of energy, meaning he wins against Ingrid in his first round robin (although it was a close thing). 

Ferdinand wins against him, but again only by a small margin, and Sylvain cannot help but tip his head to where Hubert stands in the corner, eyes glued to them. Ferdinand gives him a confused look, and Sylvain sighs to himself, wondering how they can both be so stubborn. 

His third round is against Dimitri. He winks, and Dimitri just raises his eyebrows but Sylvain knows it’s appreciated by the tilt of his jaw. But he steadies himself, knows this will be a difficult fight, and readies as the professor gives the signal. Except, well he’s Sylvain. He can’t help but give Dimitri that specific look he uses; just that little flicker of the eyes, the bite to his lip, the one that makes his breath catch and his pupils expand just as he comes towards him. 

Which, he knows within five seconds, was a very stupid move. 

There are specific reasons for not using real weapons, and while the training weapons can do a decent amount of damage, they are made for practice. The students though, do put them through their paces; in the last two moons Sylvain has witnessed Felix be knocked unconscious, Caspar loose a tooth and split his lip and Bernadetta just managed to avoid shooting Hubert in the face when he startled her. 

This though, takes the prize, he thinks numbly as he collapses to his knees clutching his side with the wooden Lance embedded in it. 

It shouldn’t even be possible, but here he is, leaning over as there are several shouts on all sides to halt the class, but his vision is already swimming. He feels the cool metal of familing gloves on his cheeks, and smiles to himself for a second as a hail of snow grey shapes cascade diagonally across his eyes. 

_It’s alright, Dimitri’s got me_ , is his last thought before he passes out. 

* * *

He awakens in the infirmary, the light now hues of rose gold as the sun moves into set. His head aches, mouth dry as he blinks several times, the tell of a fairly hefty healing spell having been used. Sylvain clears his throat as he shifts towards wakefulness, and there's a movement to his left which captures his attention. 

His mouth pulls into a smile unbidden as Dimitri comes into focus, framed perfectly by the light of the evening. It’s unfair really, how regal and dashing he looks, picture perfectly stepped from one of Ingrid’s romance novels that she denies reading profusely.

Dimitri isn’t smiling though. And it’s that which brings Sylvain back fully to reality with a crash, and he attempts to sit up. But at the movement, Dimitri springs into action, placing a hand on Sylvain’s shoulder. 

“You should rest, don’t get up so quickly,” he says, soft and fond but his brow remains furrowed and pinched, Sylvain longing to smooth it down but knowing that isn’t a good idea now. 

“I feel fine. Just a little tired,” he insists as Dimitri sits back in his chair. 

“You were stabbed, Sylvain. Don’t brush it off as if it’s nothing,” he says, voice snapping a little, which instantly clues him in on what’s happening. 

“It was an accident,” he says, ignoring Dimitri enough to settle up higher on the pillows. 

Dimitri closes his eyes as if against a blow at this exhaling deeply as a hand comes to res on his forehead. 

“It was. But, it’s the last in a long series of them, isn’t it?” he says, and the tone making Sylvain’s fingers rattle with nerves. 

His laughter comes out high and nervous despite his forced calm. “Yeah we’re kinda clumsy I guess,” he says. 

Dimitri’s hand drops. “I keep hurting you. That’s not acceptable,” he says, and it's there, the pure decision in his voice. 

Sylvain starts to panic, so swallows hard because it’s not supposed to go like this. Not the one time a relationship actually has meaning for longer than a few hours, not when there’s someone who likes his words which aren’t lines, his interests that aren’t fabricated and his life that isn’t the glory without the pain. 

He doesn’t know what to say though. His throat is so clogged with his uncertainty and a crush of potential heartbreak that he cannot make his voice sound. Dimitri doesn’t seem to notice; he stands and leans forward, pressing the softest kiss to his forehead. 

“Get some sleep, Sylvain. We can talk tomorrow,” he murmurs, and then turns to leave the room, his steps swift and echoing, door slamming hard which would normally make so part of him flutter indulgent but now it’s just an ache. 

For the first time in his life, Sylvain covers his eyes and lets himself tear up over a lost romance. 

**+1**

Manuela seems concerned when he is clearly reluctant to leave in the morning. 

“You mostly collapsed from the shock and the placement, it wasn’t as deep as it seemed. I’m surprised you’re still here at all,” she says, peering at him. 

She offers him another few hours, but Sylvain knows he’ll then have to explain to the Professor why he’s still in the infirmary, so leaves just as class is about to start. 

He doesn’t go though. Walks numbly to his room, changes and then idly finds himself heading to the dining hall sometime later. It’s relatively empty, what with most students in classes, but Sylvain hasn’t eaten in so long he can’t bring himself to care that he’s skipping. 

He asks for two portions of ice cream, ignores everyone’s stares, and sits at the back of the dining hall with no regrets as he starts eating the frozen sugar. Dorothea was onto something when she said this stuff is the best for a broken heart. Sylvain’s probably going to lose his teeth with the amount of dessert he’ll start eating when Dimitri inevitably breaks up with him later today. 

His stomach revolts at the thought and he has to place his spoon down to breathe. If this is the pain in just imagining, exactly how much will he really hurt? His mind tips guiltily towards the night at the tavern, the amount of times he’s tripped Dimitri by accident, the one time he’d ended up in an ants nest due to it. 

They do have a lot of bad luck, it’s true. But everything else is worth it. Or at least, Sylvain thinks so. Maybe they aren’t as on the same page as he thought. 

He finishes eating, vaguely considers collecting thirds but just about resists. The goes back to his room, naps and then checks out his side. Not a mark or a blemish; as Manuela had stated, not as deep as it had seemed. But he can feel an invisible scar circling, the straw the broke the camel's back of his relationship. 

The rest of the day passes in avoidance, Sylvain going into town to find more food (and taking cake recommendations from Lysinthea seeing as his craving for comfort in sugar remains), then running back to his bedroom before he can be seen. 

There is only so long he can hide though, and while attempting to distract himself with reading, a bang echoes, hinges of his door shaking with the knock. 

“Sylvain? Are you here? I hope I haven’t woken you,” Dimitri’s voice calls, as if the knock were not enough to alert him. His tone is clearly on edge, and Sylvain has to regulate his breathing for a second before putting the book down and standing. 

Sylvain gulps, hesitating before the door. But he should probably get this done, rip it off so the pain strikes in an instantaneous wave, so he pulls open the door with force. 

And comes face to face with flowers.

A bouquet of large proportions that he’s seen in the market but never thought to waste his money on when one single rose with suffice. So he stares at it incomprehensively until there is a cough behind the flowers. 

“May I come in?” 

Sylvain moves aside and allows Dimitri and the flowers to enter. He watches as the Heir Apparent to the Kingdom of Fargus struggles with where to put such a monstrous amount of blooms, eventually knocking over several books to make space on the desk. 

Sylvain has no idea what’s happening. 

So when Dimitri straightens, the words burst out, the day of sickening trepidation catching up. 

“Did you buy me breakup flowers?” he accuses. 

Dimitri chokes. “E-excuse...break up? What...Sylvain, I’m not breaking up with you...hold on, are you breaking up with me?” 

“No!” Sylvain yells, and then his mind actually registers Dimitri’s previous words and his whole worldviews tips enough to render him utterly blank. 

Neither of them say a thing, both just looking horrified at the other. Sylvain shakes himself free of his stupor first. 

“But yesterday you seemed like...you were questioning things. Considering how I-” 

“Was stabbed, by me. Hence flowers, a gift I was hoping would lighten your spirits,” Dimitri says with a heavy sigh, then moves forward so they are practically toe to toe, Sylvain still marveling that the flowers were a ‘sorry I stabbed you gift.’ Only Dimitri. 

“I think we do need to work out a way to be more careful with one another. I know we tend to...get carried away,” he says, pausing as a delightful blush paints his cheeks, Sylvain’s own smile turning sharp. 

“But it tends to result in one of us being hurt, and I cannot bear another incident like yesterday. Essentially, I need to look after you more,” Dimitri says, that same determination he’d displayed yesterday evening, cupping Sylvain’s cheek as he does. 

Sylvain’s mouth opens and closes once, twice as he has to steady himself. 

“I don’t need looking after,” he manages, and Dimitri shakes his head fondly. 

“Of course you do not. But I want to take care of you. Or at least, not cause you bleed out in my arms,” he says, and Sylvain cannot help but close the distance, leaning his forehead against Dimitri’s, who lifts his other hand to frame Sylvain’s face. 

“Sylvain, I’m not thinking about ending things between us. I love you. I’m thinking of ways to preserve us both for many years to come,” Dimitri says, pulling away to kiss his forehead. 

And Sylvain is this time not only left without words but without air, so utterly stunned by the confession that he cannot do a thing other than watching the man before him smile in that frustratingly perfect way. Sylvain knows he needs to recall language once more, to acknowledge and return such gravity with his own feelings, but for now he cannot. 

So he replies with action by pulling Dimitri forward and kissing him. 

They may have just had a conversation about not getting carried away, but Sylvain thinks a love confession may be worth breaking the rules for. Dimitri appears to think so too for his kiss is bruising and meets Sylvain head on, hands this time in his hair, pulling it just the perfect amount to match the cadence of their mouths, Sylvain steadingly himself with arms locked around Dimitri’s waist. 

“Oh f- SHUT THE DOOR.” 

Felix’s shout and the inevitable slam of the door on its hinges breaks them apart. They both stare as they hear the stomp of his footsteps matching away before Sylvain laughs into Dimitri’s neck, loud and bright. 

“I love you too,” he whispers into his ear, leaning up ever so slightly and placing a fleeting kiss at the skin there. 

As Dimitri pulls him forward in a more careful but no less intense embrace, Sylvain thinks they’ll work this out. Hopefully with less near fatal wounds in the process. 

**Author's Note:**

> Is Felix pining? Maybe. All I know is, Sylvain has 2 hands. 
> 
> Come talk to me about Dimivain and FE3H on [Twitter](http://www.twitter.com/EnlacingL/)!


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